Secret Repair Service

Author’s Note: This was originally a short for the word challenge ‘knackered.’ I looked it up in the dictionary, but whether it means completely wasted during the drinking process or the hangover process I’m still not clear on, so I just took the word out completely. :P *shrug* Whatever.

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It had been four days and Jack was getting more and more impatient by the second. Four days! He could have taken his computer apart and put it all back together again ten times over, not that he ever would, but what on Earth could be stumping their resident genius this badly?

Oh ya, they weren’t on Earth. Maybe that was the problem. She needed the comforting smells of chocolate and her lab to fix the problem. But thoughts of home only served to remind him he was missing The Simpsons, again. Feeling even more impatient than before, Jack picked up the pace back to camp. Daniel had been ecstatic to find out he could spend more time with the locals, even Teal’c seemed intrigued by their heavy artisan culture.

That left Carter, a broken DHD, and one very restless Colonel.

“Hey Carter, maybe you should take a break,” Jack said, suggestively swinging a wineskin the locals had more than graciously given him.

Carter didn’t even look up. “I think I’ve almost got it, sir.” She’d been saying that for four days now. Jack peered over her shoulder at the exposed alien circuits and knew at a glance it wasn’t going to work. Fingers itching to just correct a few things for her, Jack cautiously stepped back. The last time he’d tried to help, she’d actually scolded him. That was right before he ordered her to get some sleep.

The gate powered up, only to die out again a second later. Carter groaned, her head sinking with defeat. “I was sure it would work that time.”

Jack bit his tongue to keep the sarcastic reply from coming out, saying instead, “Come on. Take a break. Have a drink.”

She looked up at him with a frown, the exhaustion plain on her face. “I thought people only drunk to success, not defeat.”

“Oooooor,” Jack drawled out, “maybe it’ll loosen you up and you’ll think of something.”

She looked ready to refuse the proffered wineskin so Jack shook it enticingly, giving her his most charming smile. Just take the drink, Carter. Just one sip! He mentally encouraged.

“Are you sure it’s okay? Technically we are still on duty.”

Apparently the charm wasn’t working, so instead he fell back to the age old method of pulling rank. Drawing himself up, Jack ordered, “Carter, take a drink. You’re exhausted, you’re not thinking straight, and you’re too wound up to be of any use to anyone.”

That did it. Carter hated being told she ‘wasn’t of any use.’ “Well,” she hesitated, but took the wineskin from him, “maybe just a bit.”

A bit was all it took. Jack had had the stuff the night before, and knowing Carter’s weak tolerance for alcohol he knew it wouldn’t take long before she was completely drunk. He still waited twenty minutes just to be sure, but when after only five had passed and Carter had already drained half the skin, Jack knew the liquor was doing its job. Now he could finally do his and they could get out of here.

Grabbing her tools, he quickly got to work on the DHD. For the longest time Carter just sat beside him, humming softly to herself while occasionally raising her hand as if comparing it to the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Suddenly turning to him, Carter questioned, as if noticing him for the first time, “Wha’r’yu doing?” Her eyes were completely glazed over.

Looking at her, Jack wondered if maybe the alcohol was doing too good a job. “Carter. Give me that.”

“Vhat?”

“You’ve had enough,” He reached for the wineskin but she protectively hugged it to her chest.

“Carter.”

“No,” She objected, sounding for the entire world like a petulant child. That took Jack by surprise. Even on the rare occasion she got hammered at home she never acted this bad. Stupid alien alcohol!

“Give!”

He held a hand out, and pouting, she finally relinquished the wineskin. “So, wha’r’yu doing?”

“You’re fixing the DHD.”

“I am?” She questioned, her eyes going wide. “Wha’amazing thing.”

“I told you the alcohol would help,” Jack casually remarked with a smirk.

She ‘ummmed,’ then ‘trilled,’ and then fell over dead asleep.

Jack stared at her for a full five seconds in shock. Just how alcohol intolerant was she? But as soon as Jack was sure Carter wasn’t in any danger, he just finished the repair, put the tools back the way he found them, and waited for Carter to wake up.

She wouldn’t remember a thing, and have one blooming hangover, but at least tomorrow they could finally go home.

Jack grinned with success, and then accidentally made the mistake of taking a swig from the wineskin. After that, he didn’t remember anything either.

End, the